


Sick Day

by thirdeyeopen



Series: ZADR [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, dib hates work and calls in sick, honestly just a chill wholesome fic, it's not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdeyeopen/pseuds/thirdeyeopen
Summary: You aren't supposed to take a sick day if you aren't sick.But whatever.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: ZADR [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551181
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107





	Sick Day

It was roughly 9 in the morning when Dib pulled himself awake. Sleepy, golden sunlight spilled in through the window, being the first thing the human saw as he opened his eyes. A disappointed frown pursed his lips as the haze of sleep began to wear off; he was having a good dream, and didn't get to finish it before the morning woke him up. All he wanted to do was curl back up and go right back to sleep… he didn't even feel like getting up to make coffee, the only thing that woke him up well enough anymore. 

The moment Dib made even the slightest movement, he felt the coiling of tiny arms around his waist, tightening as if to hold him back. In his groggy state, it took a look behind him to put two and two together; Zim, (hopefully) peacefully asleep, was refusing to let him go. A soft smile captured Dib's lips as he glanced back at the Irken; he didn't want to go to work, either. 

Dib frowned once more at the thought of work. He was only 22, a stooge for his father already, carrying heavy equipment around Membrane Labs and helping tinker with technology. Dib could never understand why  _ he  _ had to be the one to work there;  _ Gaz  _ was the one who knew how to code. Why wasn't _ she  _ the tinkerer? 

Sighing bitterly, Dib slowly reached a hand down to his waist, slipping his fingers under Zim's own tiny digits. He gently pried himself free of the Irken's grip, and dropped his arms over on his side of the bed. Secretly wishing Zim had protested a bit further, Dib sat up, gingerly sliding out of bed. 

The hardwood floor was cold, giving him a little shock of wakefulness as he put as he stood up. His joints ached with the abruptness of activity, and he leaned himself backwards until he felt bones in his back pop, suppressing a groan as the tightness immediately disappeared. 

With one final glance at the bed and a wish that it was an off day, Dib stepped out of the bedroom and began to head down the hall. 

Their house was a one-story, made of brick on the outside and covered in faux wood on the inside. It was a decent size; eleven-hundred square feet, with a small patch of woods in the backyard. Even though it was the cheapest house in the area, there was no way Dib could have bought it without help; Membrane must have expected strenuous labor as a thank-you. 

Dib went down the long hallway and entered the living room, connected to both the kitchen and dining room by an open floor plan. There was a front door to his left and a side door in front of him; it led out to the carport, and consequently was the door they used the most. The dining room was way too big for their small, two-person table, the floor covered in carpet much like the living room, hallway, and guest bedroom. The kitchen had freezing cold marble tile floors, and Dib jolted again as he, forgetful, stepped onto it without a second thought. If he had a coffee cup in his hand, he most likely would have launched it through the air.

"Jesus Christ," the sleepy human muttered as he walked over to the counter, grabbing a coffee filter out of the cup-shaped holder. He zoned out at the sink, suddenly coming to again as hot coffee slipped past his lips. 

Bitter, as usual. But it was the only thing that worked. 

He walked to the side door and opened up the blinds to stare out the side door as he drank. Leaves had already begun to fall, dotting the edge of the forest at the house's side yard. 

There were graves in that forest, and only Dib had the guts to go see them. They weren't even that well hidden; Dib could see the palest tombstone through the trees if he squinted hard enough. He remembered the first time he happened upon them. They were African American graves, with death dates going as far back as the first year of the 1900's. There weren't many graves, maybe eleven or twelve, but they always made Dib a little sad to think about; all these graves full of people who loved other people, who had lied there long before the house came along, now stuck on private property, barred away from anyone still left alive to mourn them.

Suddenly, his coffee cup was empty. Dib blinked and backed up from the door. He set his cup in the sink and flicked on the water, letting it splash the coffee grounds and stains out of the cup. Then he turned the water off and poured the cup out. 

An extensive hairbrushing and a change into a Membrane Labs shirt, his long coat, and dark boots later, Dib stood in front of the door once again, car keys in hand. He had given Zim a little goodbye kiss to the cheek before he left, and he didn't allow himself time to think about how badly he wanted to call out sick before he rushed out. 

He opened up the door and was immediately greeted by the freezing air, something his coat was absolutely no help in fighting off, as much as he liked wearing it. The human's hands suffered the worst in such a short time; Dib wrung them together as he hurried to his car, practically throwing open the door and closing it just as fast as he scampered inside. 

As the car roared to life, Dib checked the time on the electronic dashboard. 9:28. He could get to the lab in about fifteen minutes, and be on time. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't put his hands on the steering wheel. 

Sitting there trying to will himself soon manifested into weighing out the pros and cons of calling out sick; if he stayed home, he stayed home, so that was a pro. But he would have to really sell the sickness if he wanted to make it believable, which was a con. 

But whatever. The car had shut itself back off anyway.

With a giddy smile, Dib scrambled out of the car and opened the door, immediately stepping back into the warmth of his house. He snatched his phone off the nightstand in his bedroom, scrolling through his contacts with a mischievous grin before finding and clicking on "Membrane Labs". 

The phone line would navigate anyone else to a lady at a desk, but for Dib, she knew to immediately redirect him to the professor himself. 

The Professor answered on the second ring, his deep voice sounding all too happy to receive the call. 

"Good morning, son." He said; Dib inwardly cringed at the word, biting back the sudden bitterness it brought on. "I hope you're ready for another day of hard work! We've almost met the deadline, son! Just a few more finishing touches and-" 

"Uh, yeah, about that." Dib said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't come in today. I'm sick." He gave a sniff into the phone, waiting for Membrane's reply. 

"...Oh." The scientist said dumbly, his gleeful voice deflated at the news. He seemed almost at a loss; the unexpected confession of it must have hit him like a train. "Well, uh… certainly don't need you in the lab if you're sick, no. Just get some rest and you should be good as new in no time." 

Dib immediately smiled at his victory, thankful it couldn't be seen as he silently mouthed a  _ Yes! _

"I will." He said after a pause. "See you tomorrow… uh, maybe." 

"Yes. Yes, see you tomorrow." Membrane replied. "Alright. Bye, son." 

_ Eugh.  _

"Bye." 

Dib hung up first, and set the phone down on the nightstand again. A wave of glee washed over him as he took it in; he had an off day,  _ finally.  _ And he could do whatever he wanted. 

Before he knew it, he was back in bed, tugging the blankets over himself and sinking into the warmth. Facing Zim this time, Dib slowly snaked his arms around the Irken, pulling his tiny form closer. Zim sluggishly returned the favor, pressing his forehead against Dib's chest. 

  
  



End file.
